


Red Velvet Cake

by obsidianfae



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Black Character(s), Charity Auctions, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Sam Wilson is a Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidianfae/pseuds/obsidianfae
Summary: Stark Industries is hosting a charity event where philanthropists can bid to win a date with one of the Avengers. As Pepper’s assistant, you’ve been tasked with managing the event. You catch the eye of a certain Sam Wilson, and he’s desperate to get your attention.





	Red Velvet Cake

“Wow. You look… amazing.”

Sam Wilson is a sweet talker. It doesn’t matter who he’s talking to, the words that come from that beautiful mouth are as sickly sweet as molasses and twice as appetising. You, on the other hand, aren’t blessed with that kind of natural charisma. Everything coherent that comes out of your mouth has been rehearsed over a million times in your head, and considering that you’ve managed to be appointed as Pepper Potts’ personal assistant, you’d say that your calculating nature has worked out for the best.

But when Sam Wilson walks up to you in that red velvet suit and looks you up and down with that warm fondness in his eyes, your mind short circuits and you’re left absolutely dumbfounded. If your mouth was open, you’re pretty sure you’d be drooling right about now. Where are you again?

The charity auction. You’re at the auction that you’ve been working on for months and now the day’s finally here. Pepper did most of the planning for it, but since she’s hosting the event, all the behind the scenes work has been placed in your overworked-yet-capable hands. Your hair is flat twisted and pulled into a low bun (with a myriad of bobby pins to keep it in place), and you’re wearing a long, black evening gown that just barely brushes the ground when you walk— courtesy of Natasha Romanoff herself. She would have worn it herself, but dress code insisted on the bachelors (and bachelorette) wearing red to stand out among the black tie guests. You were hesitant to wear such a sparkling dress when you were only there on business, but seeing the look on Sam’s face dissolved all your lingering uncertainties.

You manage to regain your train of thought and smile at Sam, holding your clipboard close to your chest. “You look very handsome yourself, Mr. Wilson.” That’s an understatement. You know that the dress code required all bachelors to dress up, but seeing Sam outside of his workout gear or his tactile suit sends such a shock through your system. A black button up paired with a red suit jacket with black lapels is a sexy concept in itself, but seeing it on him is just… mind boggling.

Sam doesn’t let up on the intense look in his eyes. But the corner of his mouth perks up just a bit. “Since when have you called me  _ ‘Mr. Wilson’ _ ?” The words roll off his tongue so warmly that you feel like you’re melting. Are you melting? You wouldn’t be surprised if you just started melting where you stood. 

But you’re working right now for a very important event, so you manage to keep yourself from losing your aura of professionalism. “Since I’ve been a personal assistant in a room full of superheroes and A-list celebrities.”

“Don’t be like that. I can tell you right now, you’re better than half the moneybags in here.”

“Be nice,” you hush in a whisper. “It’s a charity auction.” If word of you bad talking the guests got around, you would be fired before the night was up— no matter how much Pepper liked you. Luckily, no one was around to hear it. The doors only opened a few minutes ago, and the two of you are a distance away from where the rest of the guests have started to mingle.

Sam shoves his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and shrugs. “You only say that ‘cause you’re not the one up for auction.”

“Hey, now. Weren’t you the one that said it sounded fun?”

“I change my mind. Everyone’s heads are so far up their asses, I’m surprised they can still see.”

Your head swirls around to check if anyone heard that. You make eye contact with one of the guests— a wealthy heiress from plastic manufacturing company. You flash a wide smile her way and turn back to Sam with a glare in your eyes. “Be. Nice.”

“I don’t wanna.” Sam says, looking out into the sea of Money steadily pouring in through the doors. “I’m not cut out for the ritzy-glitzy side of things. I wanna lay on the couch and play Mario Kart with Clint.”

No matter how much he insists that he doesn’t belong, Sam sure looks the part. Now if he could only  _ play _ the part as well.

“That makes two of us. I—” Your phone starts buzzing in your hand and you flash Sam an apologetic look before answering it. “Hello? What, of course you’re on the guest list, sir. You’re an esteemed partner of Stark Industries and we are more than honored to have you attend our event. I’ll speak with security at once.” You end the call and let out a deep breath.

“Duty calls?”

“Duty calls.” You want to keep talking to your very attractive companion. You don’t want to deal with rich people with no respect for you. But you get paid good money to do it, so you bid Sam a reluctant goodbye and set off with a plastic smile plastered on your face. 

* * *

Your cheeks hurt from keeping that smile bared on your face, but you managed to solve the issue with the guest list without getting yelled at by the guest in question. That’s a win in your book. Middle aged white men are very fond of yelling when situations inconvenience them, and it’s usually even worse when they’re the CEO of a multimillion dollar corporation. But you kept that smile on your hair and pretended not to be fazed when he made a comment on how nicely you fill out your dress. You  _ really _ hope he doesn’t win the bid for Natasha’s date.

Speaking of Natasha, she’s lingering near the bar with Clint by her side. Her dress is sequined all throughout the bodice and the skirt flares out into a tulle fishtail. She looks absolutely stunning— more so than usual in the crimson dress with her fiery hair and bright lipstick. And Clint— well, you’ve only ever seen him around the compound in week old sweats, so the burgundy tuxedo is a nice change of pace. His hair is slicked back out of his face (courtesy of Natasha or Steve, you presume).

Happy to see a couple of familiar faces, you make a beeline across the room to catch them by the bar before they have a chance to get lost in the crowd. “Ms. Romanoff. Mr. Barton. It’s a pleasure to see you here.”

Clint scrunches up his face at your formality. “Don’t like that. Talk like a normal person, will you?”

Natasha has a martini in hand and she looks you up and down with a calculating eye. “You’re stressed. Here, drink.”

It hurts to say, but you’re gonna have to reject her offer. “I swear, all of you are trying to get me fired tonight. Drinking on the job is a definite no.”

“Your loss.” Natasha shrugs and downs the rest of her drink, handing it off to Clint to hold.

You pluck the olive from her glass and bite it off the toothpick. You can taste the gin on it, but sadly, it’s not enough to make you forget about all the shit you still have to do tonight.

“I almost forgot to mention how nice you two look.” You look over to Clint, who has taken to fishing the maraschino cherries out of his Shirley Temple. “You clean up very well.”

“Surprisingly well,” Natasha adds. Clint looks a bit hurt by her comment, but you can’t deny the accuracy of the statement. Clint never struck you as one to give a shit about his appearance. And based on what you’ve seen of him, you’d say it’s a pretty accurate judgement.

You don’t have that kind of leeway in your career. As a woman in the business world, your appearance has a direct relation to your worth. And as a  _ black _ woman in the business world, well, you have to give over a hundred percent just to rank among the people giving seventy. Pepper Potts was kind enough to give you the opportunity to thrive, and if you don’t carry yourself in a way to match her professionalism, then you’re actively hurting her reputation.

“Oh yeah,” Natasha starts. “Sam was looking for you earlier.”

You can’t help but perk up at the thought of Sam trying to find you. “Really?”

“Of course he was. The guy follows you around like a lost puppy. Complete with the pouty eyes and everything.” Clint says.

“Did either of you see where he went?”

“Last I saw, he was talking to Cap by the stage.” 

You quickly thank Clint for his directions and bid the two of them goodbye. It was nice to talk to get to talk to them, especially since you haven’t been able to spend much time at the compound as of recently. Work always does and always will come first, no matter how much it takes out of you.

You spot Sam on the outskirts of the crowd, looking just as suave as ever. He’s with Steve, mingling with a couple of guests, probably telling them mission stories or something similar. Whenever the two of them get together, all they talk about are mission stories. What you wouldn’t give to be able to take a breather and hear a couple of those right about now. Unfortunately, just as you get near the stage, Pepper calls your name and you have to turn and walk in the other direction to deal with whatever issue is now plaguing the night.

* * *

It’s dinnertime.

Finally the doors are closed and all of the guests are sitting and being served their dinner for the night. The bachelors have a table all to themselves in the center of the ballroom since they’re the stars of the night, but you can’t say that seeing all your friends in one place doesn’t make you feel a bit lonely. Even if you could go over to them, it’s not like you have the time to sit down and eat with them anyways. But it’s okay. Because you’re busy. 

You grabbed a couple of bread rolls from the kitchen and excused yourself to the back of the ballroom to treat yourself to some well needed carbs. In retrospect, it was probably for the best that you didn’t accept Natasha’s martini. You haven’t exactly eaten since breakfast this morning, and you’re already a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.

“You enjoying yourself back here?” It’s Sam’s voice. You would recognize it absolutely anywhere, especially when it’s just beside you.

“I’m enjoying these rolls.” You take a bite of one to punctuate your statement. “This is the first thing I’ve had in my body in like twelve hours.”

Sam looks at you in worry and disbelief. “You’re telling me that you haven’t eaten all day?”

“I’ve been busy all day. In here, setting things up for tonight.”

“Too busy to  _ eat _ ?”

“It happens.” You say through a mouthful of bread.  _ God _ , this is some good bread. You don’t even have butter or anything on it, but you swear it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

“We’re getting some  _ actual _ food after the night’s over, got it? IHOP, Denny’s— anywhere that you can get some pancakes and waffles in you.”

You don’t even get a chance to tell him how fucking amazing that sounds before you hear the sound of plates shattering from over in the kitchen. The excitement on your face fades in an instant. “That’s only if I manage to survive the night.”

* * *

Finally.  _ Finally _ , dinner is over and dessert is served. Pieces of red velvet cake are laid out on each table in the ballroom, save for the newly vacant bachelor’s table. The bachelors (and the one bachelorette) have all been relocated behind stage until they get called out for their bidding. The wait staff set aside enough cake for them to eat their fill after the auction, which works for you as well, since red velvet is your favorite and you’re certain you’d break into tears if you didn’t get any.

Natasha is the first one out on the stage. Her date goes for 37,000 to a renowned action film actor. Clint goes for 33,500 to the blonde heiress you saw earlier that night. Sam’s up next. You’re in the back of the room again, nibbling and gnawing at another one of those bread rolls. They’re honestly the only things keeping you on your feet. 

The bidding for Sam’s date starts up and the price skyrockets within seconds. 15,000. 16,000. 18,000. Sam’s an extremely handsome and an extremely charming man. You wouldn’t be surprised if he spent his night talking up the moneybags so they’d be more inclined to bid big money on him. 

“34,000.” Pepper says, waiting a moment before continuing. “Going once. Going twice—”

“40k.”

Wait a minute. You know that voice. That voice drips of slow sex and warm honey and makes you feel like a hedonist.

That’s Sam’s voice.

You tear your attention away from your basket of bread rolls to look up at the stage. Sam’s standing there with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, grinning smugly like he owns the world. Is he really doing this? Of course he’s doing this. Of course he would be the one to do this. The only other person to pull a stunt like this would be Tony, but you’re certain Pepper already threatened him to keep from upstaging the event.

If Pepper was taken aback by Sam’s impromptu bidding, she doesn’t show it. She carries herself with the poise and level-headedness of a queen. “Forty thousand dollars,” she repeats. “Going once. Going twice. Sold, to Mr. Sam Wilson himself.”

Oh. You’re going to kill him.

Sam better have an excuse. He knows how hard you worked on this. He was the one that set alarms on your phone to remind you to drink water for when you lost track of time. You bled yourself dry for this event to go well and  _ he fucking knew that _ . So he better have a good reason for sabotaging it. Because if he doesn’t, then the Avengers are going to be down a team member.

You make it backstage just as he exits the stage, your breath caught in your throat and your chest heaving. You can’t tell if it’s from the fuming irritation you’re feeling or from sprinting from the back of the room in an evening gown, but at this point you couldn’t care less. All you want to do is find Sam. So you can murder him.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you look at it), he’s in the middle of a hushed conversation with Pepper just by the stage curtain. Which means homicide is off the table. You bunch up the skirt of your dress and start toward them, but Steve manages to intercept you before you reach your destination.

He’s discarded his ruby colored jacket from earlier, leaving him with the matching tie and black dress shirt. The sleeves have been rolled up to the elbow to better show off his flexors, because of course Steve would do that. If you weren’t in such a rush to get past him, you would’ve dragged him into the ground for that fashion choice.

“Get out of my way.” The words come out snippier than you would’ve liked, but he doesn’t seem to take offense. In any other circumstance, you would’ve been more than cordial with him.

“Go easy on him, will you?”

“No promises,” you say. Steve steps aside to let you through and you brush past without any hesitation. Sam and Pepper are still talking and as you get closer, you manage to catch the final snippets of their conversation.

“I still get the date, right?”

“Yes, you still get the date. And since you were the one to buy it, you get to decide who you take and where the two of you go.”

“Hey,” you interject, catching both of their attentions. Pepper gives you a small smile and excuses herself back to the stage to continue with the auctions. Which leaves you with Sam and your unrelenting rage. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

His lips turn up at the corners. “Your accent’s slipping through.”

You’re not letting that sexy little smirk knock you off your game this time. You fold your arms over your chest and hold your ground. “Yeah, it tends to do that when I’m faced with unrelenting dumbasses. This isn’t some party for you to upstage with your bullshit, Sam. This is a  _ charity event _ .”

“I’d say I’m pretty damn charitable. I just dropped 40k on a date. That’s a bit pricey, even for me.”

“Is this all just a joke to you?”

“Definitely not a joke.” He says. “The girl I really wanted to take on a date was too busy to notice me any other way.”

“What?” You’re almost certain that you didn’t hear that right. 

Sam nods. That intense look is back in those deep, warm eyes of his. “You were in the back with the bread rolls again. But you looked up when you heard me bid.”

All of the anger that was seething inside of you just a few moments ago sizzles and evaporates instantly. “You were looking at me?” That warm fuzzy feeling is back in your chest and you feel like you could melt at any moment.

“Of course I was. You’re gorgeous. Even when you’re shoving bread into your cheeks like a chipmunk.”

You want to say something— something to tell him how impossibly attractive he is, and how much you think about him and care about him. But the sheer fact that Sam Wilson, the man with looks to rival those of a Greek god, thinks you’re gorgeous is more than enough to short circuit your brain. So you settle for a simple,  _ “oh.” _

A smile is played out on his lips and you swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “So how ‘bout that date? I think you could do for some time off.”

You want to say yes.  _ God _ , do you want to say yes. But you can’t just ditch an event that you’re helping run. “I— I’m still on the clock. The auction isn’t over yet.”

“Once again, I just dropped 40k on a date. I think Pepper can make an exception for you this one time.” 

That’s a good point. You were  _ explicitly _ told to treat the auction winners with unrelenting adoration. And Sam  _ is _ technically an auction winner. So if he wants you to skip the rest of the night to get some late night dinner, Pepper should  _ technically _ let you go. 

Pepper exits the stage with Steve, and you rush over to catch her before she has to go back on. She sees you coming and speaks before you even have a chance to open your mouth. “You want to ask if you can leave early.”

“ _ Please? _ ” Well, now you’re doubting yourself. Do you even deserve to leave early? Things didn’t exactly go as planned. “But I completely understand if you want me to stay though. Even if Sam didn’t do what he did, there were still issues with the guest list that I completely overlooked when I was checking it last night. Not to mention, I gave the wrong cues to the light and sound crew.”

Pepper takes a moment to smooth out and readjust her strapless gown. “I gave you the responsibility of managing the event to see how well you could do on your own,  _ not  _ for everything to go perfectly. I was fully prepared to take things into my own hands if the responsibility was too much for you, but you did amazing. I’d say you earned a date with your  _ friend _ , especially since he paid so much for the opportunity.”

“You’re not upset about that?”

“Why would I be upset? Tony’s done his fair share of crashing events to get my attention over the years. Just make sure Sam doesn’t pull anymore stunts in the future and we won’t have an issue.” She says, giving you a soft smile. “So go have fun. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Potts!” If you weren’t wearing stilettos, you’re certain that you would be bouncing on the balls of your feet. You give Pepper a quick hug and bid her goodbye as she heads back onto the stage for Tony’s auction.

Natasha passes by you and hands off a slice of red velvet cake.

“God, I love you.” You say, already spooning a bite into your mouth. It’s the kind with the crushed pecans on top and it’s so good you think you could break into tears. It tastes the same way Sam’s voice makes you feel. You saunter back over to Sam, your mood a complete shift from what it was half an hour ago.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

You nod happily and smile at him. “Absolutely.”

“Perfect.” He flashes an equally excited smile your way and wraps his velvet suit jacket over your shoulders. It’s warm and rich and comforting, just like him. Just like your red velvet cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this. <3


End file.
